


coffee & sweets

by doop_doop



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, POV Third Person, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 11:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20834570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doop_doop/pseuds/doop_doop
Summary: “I’ll stay with you today and make sure you don’t fall asleep too early. Then I’ll make sure you go to bed at a good time tonight. It’s a flawless plan!”“You want to spend the entire day with me, just to make sure I don’t fall asleep again?”“Yup!”“You don’t have more important things to do?”“Nothing’s more important than making sure a pal takes care of himself!”Linhardt blinks. A “pal”? They’re pals now?  He’s not sure why, but he finds himself liking the idea. He has never been called a pal before…





	coffee & sweets

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for FE Rarepair week 2019, for the prompt coffee :)  
This is a bit of an oddball pairing but, what can I say. I like them both a lot, and thought interactions would be fun.

“You’re really smart!” 

Linhardt doesn’t recognize the voice, and curiosity makes him turn. It belongs to someone from his lecture - a mountain of a man with a smile on his face. He’s obviously waiting for Linhardt to acknowledge what he’s said, but even when Linhardt is silent for a few seconds, the smile doesn’t fade.

“I know,” Linhardt says at last, hoping it will drive the man away; but he only laughs.

“You must be an English major! Are you going to be a writer someday?”

“No and maybe. I’m studying biology… but we’ll see.”

“I’m Raphael!” The man is a living, breathing exclamation point - loud and too visible, his presence jarring. He reaches out his hand and Linhardt shakes it, mostly just out of habit. He immediately regrets engaging, although part of him suspects this person would do whatever he wished no matter what, even if Linhardt ignored him completely.

“What do you want, Raphael?” he says, sighing, then glances at his phone - he’s only got an hour before his next class, hardly enough for a satisfactory nap. But if he hurries, he might sneak a short one in… 

“Straight to the point, huh? I like it!” Raphael beams down at him, as if genuinely impressed by Linhardt’s grumpy tone. “I was wondering if you would tutor me? I need help with my essay, and I’m not doing very good in English. If I don’t get my grade up before the end of the semester I might have to drop out.” 

“You could, perhaps, hire an  _ actual _ tutor,” Linhardt says, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “One who’s a professional. You and I are strangers, so I don’t actually have any incentive to help you out.” 

“Good point!” Raphael thinks about it for a few seconds, and Linhardt is just about to sneak away when he speaks again. “I could make a workout for you!”

“Excuse me?”

“I could be, like, your personal trainer! I could make a routine for you, spot you…”

“That sounds awful. Do I look like the kind of person who goes to the gym?”

“Nope, that’s why I offered!” 

Linhardt isn’t positive, but it sure seems like Raphael just insulted him, and he’s not sure how to feel about that. “I’m sure you’re a fine trainer, Raphael, but I don’t want to work out, with  _ or  _ without your help.”

“Okay then… I’ll buy you… coffee?” He says it like a question, as if he’s not sure if he will or not.

“Coffee?”

“If you like coffee. Do you? You look like the sort of guy who enjoys the fancy stuff.” 

“I do like it… but, just to reiterate, you’re asking me to edit your paper in exchange for a single cup of coffee? That doesn’t seem like a good trade, if I’m being honest…” 

“Hm… what about if I throw in a bunch of those snacks that they sell at coffee shops? Those muffins and cookies and, what do you call ‘em… scones?” 

“Ah,” Linhardt says, frowning. “Will the essay-editing actually take place at said coffee shop?” He isn’t sure why he asks. It makes it sound like he’s already agreed, which he hasn’t, and he regrets it as soon as he’s spoken.

“I guess it could, but it probably shouldn’t,” Raphael says. “When I’ve got food in front of me, that’s all I can think about! I won’t be able to focus at all!” He slams one fist into the palm of the other hand. Linhardt isn’t sure what the motion is meant to convey, but it gets his attention regardless.

“I see…”

“So how about you help me out tomorrow night, and then we can go to the coffee shop after that?” 

“No good,” Linhardt says. “I have a night class on Wednesdays.” Linhardt closes his eyes and sighs. Why in the  _ world _ did he say that? Why not just a flat “no”? 

“Are you free Thursday, then? I’d really like to get your help before we have to turn this in on Friday!”

“I’m free Thursday, yes.”

“Thursday night it is!” His words have a note of finality to it, and Raphael holds up a hand, obviously looking for a high-five. Linhardt ignores it, and after a moment that hand comes to rest heavily on his shoulder instead. “And we can get coffee on Friday, or this weekend if you want. And snacks! Here, let me give you my number!” 

“Hmm,” Linhardt says absently, pulling out his phone. How exactly did this happen? He could have been heading to bed this very moment, but he probably doesn’t have time to take a nap at all, now. Yet Raphael is looking at him with such a look of puppylike gratitude that Linhardt doesn’t feel especially upset. 

“See you Thursday!” Raphael says, once they’ve exchanged numbers. “And thanks again!” 

“Uh-huh.” Linhardt watches Raphael stomp away. The world feels quieter in his wake.

\---

“Your essay is okay,” Linhardt says, “but your punctuation is abysmal.” 

“My essay is okay? That’s awesome!”

“Did you stop listening halfway through? Your punctuation is a mess. Comma splices everywhere.” Linhardt uncaps his pen, suppressing a smile. There’s a certain joy to tearing someone’s work apart from the bottom up, making something better out of something bad. “Look, you can’t use a comma here. Use a period or a semicolon instead. And here…” 

By the end of the night, he’s in a good mood. Raphael’s essay needs a lot of work, but Raphael himself is a quick study - eager to fix every mistake Linhardt points out. And he’s so  _ trusting; _ for all he knows, Linhardt could be making it worse, yet Raphael asks no questions, expresses no doubts. 

“Thanks so much!” Raphael says, when Linhardt decides the essay’s finally presentable. “Man, I really owe you one. I’m gonna buy you  _ two _ coffees to make up for this!” 

“Don’t thank me until you get your grade back,” Linhardt says, although the praise still feels good to receive. 

“Naw, you still spent a long time helping me. Doesn’t matter if I fail or not - I’m still grateful.” He gives Linhardt’s upper arm a friendly punch, and Linhardt gets the distinct feeling that Raphael is holding himself back - that he is, in fact, ridiculously strong. As it is, it’s still enough to make Linhardt lean back from the force of it.

“Wanna get coffee tomorrow?” Raphael says. “When are you done with your classes?”

“Tomorrow’s not good. Saturday?”

“Alright!” 

“I’m free anytime after noon,” Linhardt says, not mentioning that’s because that’s his normal time to wake up. They make plans to meet at one, and Linhardt goes home with an odd spring to his step. Really, he should be more put out by all this - not one, but  _ two  _ completely avoidable social interactions outside of school - but he finds that he’s somehow… not. Raphael is big and loud and a little awkward, and Linhardt does not feel any concern about looking like a fool in front of him. That aura of clumsy enthusiasm is somehow reassuring. 

When Linhardt arrives at the coffee shop on Saturday, he immediately spots Raphael. He’s seated at a table, the surface of which is covered by pastries. Just as he’d promised, he’s got what looks like every type there - muffins, scones, brownies, cake pops, cookies. When he sees Linhardt he jumps to his feet, already smiling.

“Hey! I got the food, but I didn’t get your coffee yet. What kind do you want?” 

“Umm…” Linhardt glances at the menu. Nothing too sweet, or, with all the pastries, he’ll feel like his teeth are rotting out of his head. “Just a latte’s fine.”

“Just a latte? You sure?”

“Quite sure.”

Raphael’s gone a second later, and Linhardt sits down, gazing at the array of food in front of him. He is deeply glad he hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. He picks up a scone and nibbles on it, his eyes closing; the white noise of the other coffee shop patrons could very well lull him to sleep, were he alone.

Raphael returns not long after, a coffee in each hand. He puts them both in front of Linhardt.

“What’s this?” 

“They’re lattes, just like you wanted!” Raphael seems tremendously proud of himself. “I told you I’d get you  _ two _ coffees, didn’t I?!” 

“Normally, when one drinks multiple things, one waits to prepare the second until one is finished with the first,” Linhardt says. He takes a sip: it’s good - very good, in fact. He’s never visited this particular coffee shop before, but he already knows he’ll be returning. 

“Oh… you’re right,” Raphael says. “Your second coffee is going to get cold…” 

“It’s fine,” Linhardt says. “To be quite honest, I don’t particularly mind the taste of room-temperature coffee. And this is quite good.” 

“Oh, good! I’ve never had their coffee, but I know their pastries taste great!”

“You’ve never tried it?” Linhardt offers him the cup he hasn’t yet touched. “Do you want some?”

“Oh, no, I don’t actually like coffee! But if you don’t mind, I’m going to start eating now!”

“Go ahead.”

“You’d better take what you want!” 

So Linhardt grabs a few cookies, and Raphael begins eating everything else. Linhardt tries not thinking about how many calories the other man must be consuming - but, on the other hand, this guy probably spends all his spare time at the gym; he’s a little chubby, maybe, but the rest of him is all muscle. It doesn’t really matter how many scones he eats - he’ll burn it off anyway.

Linhardt sips his coffee and takes another bite of the scone. The air is warm and scented slightly of spices; it’s winter outside, but he feels hot and drowsy and peaceful. He rests his head on one hand and closes his eyes, the world around him fading to a hum. 

It isn’t until his head slips off his hand that he realizes he’s fallen asleep. When he opens his eyes, all the food is gone except for the handful of things he’s set aside, and his coffees are room temperature. And Raphael, he realizes, is watching him.

“I guess I fell asleep,” Linhardt says, rubbing his eyes. 

“You sure did.” Raphael’s voice is quieter than normal. “You must be really tired to fall asleep in public - and while drinking coffee!”

“I drink so much coffee I’m not sure it even has an effect on me anymore.” 

“That doesn’t sound healthy,” Raphael says, as if the man who just consumed a table full of baked goods can have any authority in the matter. “You should get more rest!”

“I pull too many all-nighters.” Linhardt winces, thinking of how late he was up - not quite all night, but close. “I don’t  _ mean  _ to, but I just get lost studying or reading and suddenly it’s five in the morning again… then I’ll fall asleep in the middle of the day, and the next night, I can’t sleep again, and the cycle repeats.”

“You should keep a more balanced, regular schedule.”

“That’s one of those things that’s very easy to say, and very hard to do.”

“No, it’s not that hard!” Raphael says. He’s painfully earnest, his smile completely gone. “Next time you stay up late, don’t let yourself sleep during the day. Go to bed at a normal time that night, and then your sleep schedule will be reset!”

“Hmm…” Linhardt thinks it over for a moment, then shakes his head. “Won’t work.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I don’t have the willpower,” Linhardt says. “Even if I don’t want to fall asleep, I do it anyways. You saw me right now, didn’t you? I wasn’t  _ trying _ to, it just happened. I don’t think I’d be able to help it.”

“Hmm…” 

Raphael seems to consider this. He’s silent so long that Linhardt begins to feel uncomfortable, and takes a sip of coffee, only to blanch at its temperature. 

Finally Raphael speaks: “I’ll just have to help you.”

“Huh?” 

“I’ll stay with you today and make sure you don’t fall asleep too early. Then I’ll make sure you go to bed at a good time tonight. It’s a flawless plan!”

“You want to spend the entire day with me, just to make sure I don’t fall asleep again?”

“Yup!” 

“You don’t have more important things to do?”

“Nothing’s more important than making sure a pal takes care of himself!” 

Linhardt blinks. A “pal”? They’re pals now? He’s not sure why, but he finds himself liking the idea. He has never been called a pal before. “Well, I have nothing else going on,” he says. “If you don’t mind watching me doing some  _ extremely  _ exciting activities, like reading and using my phone, I don’t mind spending the day with you.”

“You can read at the gym, right?” 

“I told you-”

“No, hang on,” Raphael says quickly, “I wouldn’t make  _ you _ work out - it’s for me, of course. Gotta keep my muscles looking sharp!” He grins and flexes, making Linhardt rolls his eyes. “You can sit off to the side and do your thing. Or watch me, of course!”

“Yes, I suppose…”

“Alright!” Raphael says, jumping to his feet. “Let’s get going!”

\---

The gym, when they get there, is full of people, and Raphael seems to know them all. He greets them by name, tells them they look great, asks about their day, and so on. Linhardt, sitting on the seat of an unused machine, could hardly feel more out of place. Any of these men could break him in half without even trying; they’ve all got biceps the size of his thigh.  _ Why am I here,  _ he thinks; then Raphael catches his eye, grins, and shoots him a thumbs-up. Linhardt knows very well why.  _ What in the world is wrong with me? _

The clanking of weights and the grunting of random men mean Linhardt wouldn’t have been able to sleep, even if he’d been trying. He brought a book with him, but he finds himself watching, hoping he doesn’t seem too creepy - but no one seems to care, no one asks him what he’s doing or tells him to get lost. Everyone is perpetually cheery, telling each other nice things like  _ Good job!  _ or  _ Almost there! _ \- and, unsurprisingly, Raphael’s voice is the loudest.

“Hey!” Raphael says, once some time has passed. 

It takes Linhardt a moment to realize that  _ he _ is the one being addressed. “Oh, hello.”

“You doing okay? Not drifting off?”

“Nope, definitely still awake.” 

“Good!” He pats Linhardt’s shoulder. “I’ve still got about twenty minutes to go, is that okay?”

“That’s fine. Take your time.”

“Hang in there!” Raphael says, as if it’s an ordeal Linhardt’s suffering through. Which, he supposes, it  _ should _ be. But it isn’t, which is troubling.

When the twenty minutes is nearly up, another man comes over, someone Linhardt’s never spoken to before. “Hello?” the stranger says. “Sorry to bug you…”

“Do you need to use this machine?” Linhardt asks, already getting to his feet; but the man shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m good. Are you a friend of Raphael’s?” 

“More like a project of his.” No, Linhardt tells himself, that is both untrue and mean. He shakes his head, and corrects himself: “Yes, I’m his friend. Sorry for taking up your equipment.” 

“Hey, no worries,” the guy says. “Just curious about you, I haven’t seen you here before.”

“That would be because I don’t work out.” 

“I gotcha,” the guy says, blessedly not doing Linhardt the indignity of saying that he could tell. “It’s kinda funny, watching him today. I’ve never seen him show off for anyone like this before.”

Linhardt raises his eyebrows. “Show off?”

“He’s pushing himself way harder than normal, doing things he wouldn’t normally. Like he’s trying to be extra impressive or something.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Linhardt says, looking over at Raphael. When he looks back, the stranger is already gone - but he gives Linhardt a conspiratorial wink before turning away.

\---

They walk back to Raphael’s dorm together, Raphael bare-armed even in the late-autumn chill. “Feels so good!” he says, shivering a little. Linhardt pulls his scarf tighter around his neck. 

Raphael’s room is less messy than Linhardt expected, and certainly less cluttered than his own. “You just stay here for a little bit,” Raphael says. “I’m going to take a shower. And  _ don’t _ fall asleep!” 

“I won’t.”

He still feels drowsy, though, so he stands, looking around. Again, that  _ trust -  _ for Raphael to leave Linhardt alone with all his possessions when they’re barely acquaintances is staggering. Linhardt wants to do something just to teach him a lesson - hide a note somewhere, put something in the wrong place, turn all his shirts inside-out - but he doesn’t have the energy. He sits on the floor, pulls out his book. But he finds he can’t focus; he’s too busy running the stranger’s comments through his mind. 

_ Raphael was showing off for me because he had a captive audience, _ Linhardt tells himself.  _ He wanted to impress me because I’m someone who’s never seen him work out before. That’s all. _

Although… Linhardt wonders if that really  _ is  _ all. It is very odd to him that someone found this observation important enough to come up and tell him about it directly. He wonders what kind of person that stranger was, and what his motivation had been. 

He’s startled out of this train of thought by Raphael barging in again. “I’m done! You awake?”

“That was fast.” 

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t napping.”

“I  _ said _ I wasn’t going to,” Linhardt says, getting to his feet. His voice comes out more annoyed than he actually feels. “You’re taking this very seriously, aren’t you?”

“Well, of course! I said I’d do this, and I meant it! We’re gonna fix your sleep schedule no matter what!”

“Why do you care?” Linhardt asks.

“Huh?!”

“I’m genuinely curious. You’re so passionate about this, and we only met a few days ago. I’m completely ready to call it even, if you still feel indebted to me for your essay.”

“No, that’s not in,” Raphael says. He scratches his head. “Hmm, how to say this…”

Linhardt, tired of standing, sits on the edge of Raphael’s bed. After another long silence he pulls his sweatshirt off. Something about Raphael being quiet makes him antsy - it seems so deeply  _ wrong.  _ Still he waits, watching, trying not to fidget too much.

“I just wanna help you,” Raphael says at last. “When a friend of mine has a problem, I really wanna fix it! And your problem is one I actually  _ can _ fix, so I got all fired up about it.”

“See, that’s the thing,” Linhardt says, frowning. “We’ve literally only met three times, and you call me your friend. Do you normally get close to people this quickly?”

“Am I not your friend?” 

“No, no, that’s not it,” Linhardt says, a little embarrassed at how quickly it comes out. “You  _ are _ my friend. I think you just make friends very quickly. It… normally takes me a lot longer.”

Raphael smiles. “Good!”

“Good? That it takes me a long time to make friends?”

“It  _ normally _ does, you said. Meaning this time is different.” He laughs. “Are you being difficult on purpose? You’re a pretty funny guy!” 

“No, although I’m glad I could amuse you, I suppose.”

Raphael laughs again, although Linhardt is hardly  _ trying  _ to be funny. “Anyways, after all that working out, I’m starving! Wanna go grab something for dinner?” 

“...Not particularly, no.”

Raphael gapes at him, the smile gone in an instant. “Huh?  _ No?” _

“What’s hard to understand about ‘no’?” 

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Well, a bit,” Linhardt admits, “but I’d rather just sit around and read, to be perfectly honest. I don’t feel like going out to the dining hall, or, God forbid, a  _ restaurant.” _ He shudders. “Do you have anything in your fridge? I’m not particularly picky. If not, I’ll just eat when I go home tonight.”

“I don’t  _ get  _ you,” Raphael says, sounding genuinely shocked. “You didn’t even work out, and you’re too tired to go anywhere?”

Linhardt shrugs. “It is what it is. Feel free to go without me.”

“And have you sleep here? Of course not. Hmm… What to do…” He scratches his head, frowning. Then, suddenly, he grins. “I know! I’ll get something delivered!” 

“Look, Raphael,” Linhardt says quickly, “you truly, honestly don’t need to do that. I’m fine just staying here while you grab something for yourself. I promise I won’t sleep.” 

“This isn’t just about you sleeping,” Raphael says. “It’s about making sure you take care of yourself in general. That means eating, too.” He sounds almost angry, which amuses Linhardt; the stakes are so laughably low that he can’t imagine  _ anyone _ would get worked up about it. Yet, here they are. “Don’t argue with me. I’ll order us something right now.”

“If you insist…”

“I do!”

Linhardt can tell it’s a losing battle; in fact, Raphael seems almost  _ chipper  _ as he places the order. Like Linhardt was doing  _ him _ a favor. “Says it’ll be here in thirty to forty minutes! I can hardly wait!” 

For the first time that day, Linhardt gets the chance to actually relax. He lies down on Raphael’s bed and pulls out his book, and Raphael sprawls on the floor, doing who-knows-what on his phone. But Linhardt keeps catching motion out of the corner of his eye, and once when he glances up he manages to see Raphael looking at him. “Gotta make sure you don’t fall asleep, you know,” he says, and smiles. 

Unsurprisingly, it turns out that Raphael ordered an incredible amount of food - enough to feed an entire family. Once it’s all laid out, Raphael turns to Linhardt. “I want you to take what you want first,” he says, his tone very serious. “Don’t hold back. Take more than you think you’ll eat, just in case.”

“Alright…” 

“You’re a skinny guy, you know! I bet you don’t eat enough!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Linhardt says, rolling his eyes. “I get it.”

But he still takes enough food that Raphael gives him an approving look and a thumbs-up. And then, to his shock, Raphael digs in - and manages to  _ demolish _ what’s left. It is like nothing Linhardt’s seen before. He is still working on his single plateful when Raphael finishes his feast. 

He sits back and groans, rubbing his stomach. “Ahh, that was good,” he says. “Do you like it?”

Linhardt’s mouth is full, so he only nods. As he keeps eating, he sees Raphael looking at him from time to time - pretending (badly) to be looking at something on his phone, sneaking a glance every so often in his direction. When Linhardt finally sets down his plate, Raphael speaks immediately.

“Hey, Linhardt, I’ve got something to tell you.”

“What’s that?” 

“I’m… well, I’m really glad you said yes to editing my paper the other day.”

“I already told you, don’t thank me too much until you get your grade back,” Linhardt says, frowning. “You may not have any cause for gratitude at all.”

Raphael shakes his head. “It’s not about the grade, really. I just, well… You usually sit in the front of the classroom in that class, so you can’t see me, but I’m always looking at you. When you’re not sleeping you say the most interesting things, and I kept thinking - I want to get to know this guy better! I bet he’s just so cool!”

“I’m sorry if you find the reality disappointing,” Linhardt says dryly. “I’m certainly not  _ that _ cool or interesting.”

Raphael looks shocked. “No! You’re great. You’re… look, Linhardt, I like you a lot, okay? I feel lucky you spent so much time with me. I gotta be honest with you - maybe I had a little bit of another reason I wanted to hang out with you all day. I just really like being around you!”

_ Oh my God, _ Linhardt thinks,  _ this is a confession, isn’t it? _ There’s no other way to interpret it - Raphael’s earnest, hopeful expression is confirmation enough. Linhardt’s heart is pounding, and he can feel his cheeks growing warm. “I never noticed you before you spoke to me this week,” he says slowly. “So I guess you know me better than I know you. However…”

Raphael’s hanging on his every word. Linhardt feels almost intoxicated with his power, and takes a breath just to steady himself. “However. I have found myself growing quite fond of you in the short time we’ve spent together. You’re not the kind of person I’d predict I’d be interested in, but I’ve… sort of surprised myself.”

“Linhardt! You really mean that?”

“Look, what exactly are you looking for?” Linhardt asks, playing with a lock of hair. He can’t meet Raphael’s eyes - the expression on his face is too hopeful and intense. “This is a confession, isn’t it? You’re telling me you have feelings for me? What precisely do you want out of this? Do you want to try being friends for a bit, or-”

“Yes!” Raphael says quickly, interrupting him mid-sentence. “Yes, I have feelings for you. Definitely!” 

“So what do you want-”

“Anything!” Raphael says. “Everything! Friends, something more - anything you want.” 

_ What  _ ** _do _ ** _ I want? _ Linhardt asks himself. He glances up at the other man’s face; Raphael’s blushing, and his eyes are, unsurprisingly, fixed on Linhardt. “I don’t mind dating you and seeing where it goes.” 

“Ah, Linhardt - hearing that makes me really happy!” Raphael’s beaming; his enthusiasm is infectious enough to make Linhardt smile in turn. “I promise I’ll be good for you - I’ll make sure you get the right amount of sleep, and that you don’t skip any meals!”

“And I’ll read your essays over for you.” 

“Really?”

“If you’d like,” Linhardt says, amused. “But I would have done that anyways. My deep, dark secret is that I like editing essays, and I had fun editing yours.”

“And my secret is that I like making sure you take care of yourself!”

“This is a very promising start to our relationship,” Linhardt says, and although his tone is dry, he means every word. 

“Our relationship! Linhardt - did I mention I like you a lot?”

“You did, in fact,” Linhardt says, “but I don’t mind if you say it again.” 

He isn’t sure why he’s so damned happy. Raphael  _ should _ be a deeply exhausting person - loud, active, pushy - and, yet, he isn’t. Linhardt wishes he could peer into his own mind and ask himself why this one’s different, why this person isn’t annoying him. It defies logic. But he cannot, of course; and so his only course of action is to explore this feeling over time, testing it, seeing if there is a limit to the amount of time he can spend with Raphael before his goodwill is worn away. 

Somehow Linhardt suspects that limit, if it exists, will be hard to reach. The thought of testing for it excites him. 

“By the way,” he says, “I like you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/doop_doop2)!


End file.
